


look what we've become

by challa (inflouence)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Scandal, Scandal!AU, bucky is huck, dc fixer sam wilson, mild scandal spoilers, natasha is abby, not enough rhodeysam, not my best work, president rhodes, rhodeysam, samrhodey, scott is quinn, steve is harrison, this is based off of a certain episode, tony is cyrus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 03:35:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17154539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inflouence/pseuds/challa
Summary: amidst another high profile scandal, washington d.c. 'fixer' sam wilson has a conversation with president james rhodes.





	look what we've become

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing rhodeysam. thank you linds. 
> 
> find me on twitter @challathor

At five A.M. the phone rang. 

Sam wanted to ignore it. He’d been rudely awaken from a dream, a pleasant one at that, and to be honest he didn’t want anything to do with whoever was on the other line. Yet this was the life he had chosen—one where, unfortunately, he was forced to answer phone calls at ungodly hours.

So he sucked it up. He reached for the device on his nightstand and slid to answer the call, holding back a groan. “Hello?” He said, fighting to sound coherent.

He paused, listening to the person on the other line. After a moment, he sat up.

“I’m on my way.”

  
  
  
  


Natasha tacked a photograph to wall of the conference room. “Carson Montarzi. Yale undergrad, graduated Harvard Law at the top of his class, taught at Columbia. Fairly moderate, the father of two kids—one lovely daughter and a son—and the President’s next pick as a Supreme Court Justice.”

“And this morning, he was accused of having an affair,” Steve continued.

Natasha nodded towards him and reached for another picture. “With none other than Hannah Scholl, CEO of one of the next big tech corporations, at the top of last year’s Forbes’ Ones to Watch.”

“So we’ve got an issue,” Sam said, folding his arms over his chest. He turned to his side. “How bad is it, Barnes?”

“Well, news outlets have been reporting the story nonstop since this morning,” Bucky answered, fingers flying over his laptop keyboard. “No statements from the White House or Scholl’s company. One outlet is claiming they have pictures and proof of email correspondence between Montarzi and Scholl, said it’ll be up in the next few hours.”

“We need to stop that from happening. If we’re going to salvage anybody’s reputation, those pictures and emails can  _ not  _ be leaked.” Sam reached for the cellphone in his pocket.

The door to the conference room opened. Scott entered, balancing a tray of coffees. “Sorry I’m late,” he huffed. “What did I miss?”

Sam grabbed for a cup. “Barnes, I need you to find out how that news outlet got the emails and photos and I need you to shut them down, whatever’s necessary. Scott, you’re with him. Nat, Steve, with me.”

Scott put down the tray of coffees on the table and pulled up a chair besides Bucky. Steve and Natasha gave each other a look.

“Where are we going?” Steve asked.

Sam was already out the door. “To see our client.”

  
  
  
  


“It was years ago.” Hannah spoke softly. She sat beside her husband on their plush white sofa, their hands gripped together tightly as if their lives depended on it. Across from them, Sam, Nat, and Steve sat quietly.

“He was my teacher when I was in grad school. It was completely consensual and only lasted about a year. I thought I could just put it behind me. Not—” She choked on her words. “Not this.”

Sam pursed his lips. “Hannah, listen to me. I can clear this all up, but I need you to be  _ completely  _ honest with me. The White House is going to try and spin this, make you seem like the bad guy here. We’re going to do everything we can to make sure you keep your job and that your family and reputation are safe, okay?”

Hannah nodded slowly. She looked towards her husband and paused before speaking. “John knew. I told him, last year. It was hurting me just keeping it from him.”

Steve glanced outside one of the back windows, eyebrows furrowing. 

Sam took the hint. “Steve,” he said, “Go check on the reporters outside. Keep them off of the property, remind them that they’re trespassing.” 

“Got it.” Steve obliged and got up quickly, exiting the house through the front door. They heard his loud voice yelling at the journalists to back the hell up.

“Hannah, John,” Natasha leaned forward, gazing at the couple. “Is there anyone you know who could’ve leaked this information? Anyone out there trying to get at your jobs, maybe? Or a way they could’ve gotten into your emails?”

John shook his head. “No, no, I can’t think of anybody.”

Hannah was silent.

Sam nodded curtly. “Well, you two need to think hard.” His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, checking the caller ID. “I’m sorry, I need to take this.”

As Sam stood up, Natasha took over the conversation, trying to help the couple remember if there was anyone that may have been out to get them. Sam walked off to the kitchen of the Scholl’s house. He took a deep breath and answered the call.

“Tony, always a delight to hear from you.”

“I know you’re working with Hannah Scholl. Wrong choice, Sam.” Tony wasted no time.

“Tony, we’re friends here. We can work together. Any information on who leaked the affair?”

“Montarzi is exactly what the Supreme Court needs. Moderate, nice guy. Won’t vote to repeal some important cases. The President needs Montarzi.  _ America  _ needs Montarzi. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Sam raised a brow. “My client doesn’t deserve this either, Tony. She’s successful, she’s a  _ woman _ . This is already harder on her than it will  _ ever  _ be for Montarzi. Give me what information you have, and I can work with the White House to get this mess cleared up. Your choice.”

Tony paused. After a moment, he returned, softly, “Don’t do this to him.”

“Do what?” Sam deadpanned. “Are we working as a team or not?”

“He’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to destroy his entire administration’s legacy.”

“I work for myself now, not him.”

Before Sam could get a response, Steve barged into the kitchen. “Sam, we have a problem. Bucky and Scott couldn’t get the reporters to budge. Emails leaked, and—”

“—Turns out the affair was way longer than a year,” Natasha said, walking in. She looked annoyed. “Way longer.”

Sam could tell that Tony had just received similar information. “Good luck, Sam,” he said, and the line went dead. Sam stared at his phone in shock.

He exited the kitchen. “Hannah, you better have a good reason for lying,” he began, but he stopped short at the scene in the living room.

John was staring at the television, his hands shaking, feet apart from his wife. “For lying to  _ me _ .” His voice was no longer strong or confident. “You told me—you  _ said  _ it was short. I forgave you. We moved on. But now these emails are—what? You got back with him after—” He stopped. “Is my daughter...is she even mine?”

The three stood quietly as they watched the couple. Hannah had her head in her hands, her voice slightly muffled. “I never checked, I didn’t want to, I felt like shit, John!”

“ _ You  _ felt like shit? What about—” John gulped. “I want a paternity test,” his voice shook.

Hannah looked up in shock. “John—”

“This is  _ not  _ the problem right now!” Sam yelled. Everyone whipped their heads to look at him. “The problem is your job. With this morality clause, they could ruin you. Put you out. The problem is the White House. With them backing the President’s nominee, they’ll shred you to pieces. Call you all kinds of names, make it seem like you were harassing Montarzi. The problem is your kids, what they’re seeing on the television right now.  _ This _ —you two cannot be a problem until all those other ones are settled. Let me help you, and let’s be  _ honest _ .”

Sam took a deep breath. “You two,” he pointed to his associates, “Get down to Hannah’s company. Do whatever you have to do to convince them that firing her is a mistake.” He pointed to the couple. “You two, stay in here and do not interact with the press.” He grabbed his keys. “I have somewhere to be.”

  
  
  
  


The secretary outside of the room stood up when she saw Sam approach. “Mr. Wilson, with all due respect, the President cannot—”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said to her. He pushed his way through the door, entering the most important office in the country. “You all need to shut this down.”

Tony stood up quickly. “You can’t be in here, Sam.”

“Like hell I can’t.” Sam shook his head quickly. “Really? The things you all are saying about her are  _ disgusting _ . You should be ashamed.”

“The job of the Chief of Staff is not to be a saint,” Tony tried. “You would do the same.”

“Montarzi is  _ not  _ innocent!” Sam yelled. “Neither is my client. Let’s get through this the right way, not by making her seem—”

“Sam, please.”

The extra voice stopped Sam in his tracks. He paused, curling and uncurling his fists, turning his head to the side slightly. The President of the United States leaned against his desk, hands gripping the front, frown etched onto his features.

“You’re graying,” Sam commented.

“Comes with the job,” The President said with a chuckle.

Tony coughed. “Listen, we’re not gonna find a better pick than Montarzi. This is the next best option.”

Sam ignored him, walking towards the President himself. “Rhodey, you know this isn't right. There are other people, there are other judges.”

“His confirmation hearings start  _ tomorrow _ , Sam. There’s nothing I can do.”

“There’s  _ always  _ something you can do!” Sam was angry. “You’re the leader of the free world, there’s always something.”

The two stared at each other. For a moment, it was almost as if there was no one else in the office but them. It was easy to pretend, like the past wasn’t the past, like they were just two people in the middle of a heated argument, like the current situation had nothing to do with them.

Then, the President pulled them out. “Tony, give us the room.”

“But sir—” Tony tried.

“Give us the room.”

Tony looked at Sam, bewildered. With mutterings under his breath, he listened and left the office, the door making a soft ‘click’ behind him.

Sam sighed. “I didn’t want to come here.”

“But you did.” Rhodey stared straight at Sam. “You came back.”

“For my client.”

“For your client."

Sam nodded. “We can’t—things aren’t like they used to be anymore, Rhodey. I don’t work here, I don’t work for you, I’m not your—”

“My what?” Rhodey stood. “My Director of Communications? My friend? My lover?”

“I’m not  _ any  _ of those, I can’t be any of those,” Sam said, frustrated. “Look where we are, Rhodey. In the Oval Office. People like us—” He gestured between the two. “—We don’t get to sit up here, we don’t get to screw it up because we decided to dig up something that should’ve been left alone.”

Rhodey pulled a face. “Does it look like I can help it? Does it look like I don’t spend every waking minute thinking about you, every breath wishing it was you I was talking to instead, does it look like I  _ want  _ to suffer here in this godforsaken office without you by my side?”

“Well you need to ‘help it’,” Sam hissed. He took another step forwards. “After all I did to get you in this office, you need to help it and do your  _ job _ , not worry about me.”

Rhodey nodded. “All you did to get me in this office...you mean rigging an election. You did that for me?”

“Of—of course I did it for you.” Sam looked up to the ceiling for one second before looking back at the President. 

“Not for the Republic...for me. Because you didn’t think I could get here on my own. You just...didn’t believe I was good enough to make it to this office without the help of an illegal act, because people like  _ us _ —”

“What do you want me to say, Rhodey?” Sam raised his arms in frustration. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to say you’ll come back.”

“You know I can’t.”

If Sam pretended, if he looked at Rhodey and ignored the graying hairs, the different photograph on the desk, the frown on their faces, he could act like it was February, weeks after the inauguration, when things were better and they were happy. When Sam was still working for the White House and they could sneak around and they were happy. Happiness was what he remembered in those moments, the feeling that was on his skin as they danced around the Oval all that time ago, but it was all a facade—nothing could ever be happy about their situation, not when Rhodey’s wife was so close, not when the country was depending on a leader who was too distracted with an affair. 

Sam had left for his own good. For Rhodey’s good, for Tony’s good, for Rhodey’s wife’s good, for the country’s good.

“I can’t come back,” he whispered. He reached forward, grabbing Rhodey’s hand. “I can’t come back.” He let go. “Tell Tony to back off or we’ll destroy the White House in the press.” He didn’t look back as he left the room.

  
  
  


 

“Montarzi’s out,” Scott said as they entered the firm. “White House just released a statement.”

“Scholl’s job is in good standing,” Natasha supplied.

“And once again, everything is well in our nation’s capital.” Bucky leaned back in his seat. “Anyone want dinner? I’m thinking burgers. Lang’s buying.”

“I am not,” said Scott.

“I’ll take fries, too,” Steve replied, patting Scott on the shoulder as he passed him.

Sam walked through the conference room and into his office, shutting the door behind him. He plopped down on his chair. He didn’t move, merely staring at a fixed point in space.

After what felt like forever, Bucky pushed through the doors. He took one step into the office. His hands were crossed behind his back. The two didn’t speak. Everything was silent, save the sounds of Scott arguing about dinner plans with Natasha and Steve.

Bucky hesitated. “You’re not leaving?” He finally asked.

Sam’s eyes darted towards Bucky momentarily. He huffed. “No, Barnes. I’m not leaving.”

“Good.” Bucky turned on his heel and left the room as quickly as he’d come.

Sam rubbed his temples. “Good,” he repeated, to no one in particular. 


End file.
